


The Dynamics Between

by BelleIllumina



Category: Dress Up! Time Princess (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Two Shot, am i good at it? no, disclaimer: i haven't finished the book or any of the books i'm playing really, do i already have an idea for another fanfic? yes, do i have other wip fanfics that i should update? yes, do i wanna try either way? yes, in the matter of formatting: i am rereading one of my fav books - house of leaves, what is life? lack of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleIllumina/pseuds/BelleIllumina
Summary: Of Auguste and Antoinette, and a future beyond surviving the guillotine.
Relationships: Marie Antoinette/Louis XVI (Dress Up! Time Princess), Marquis de Lafayette & Gabrielle Polignac
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Embraced by The Ocean

In a few minutes, dawn.

Marie Antoinette, took a deep breath that she was sure the night guards saw and heard. A matter, however, that was unimportant and thus, was easily shoved away. Instead, she knocked. The knocks, echoed in the silence. That was unimportant too.

"Come in."

That was important.

Thus, an exhale and a door pushed open. She slipped in and hoped that she disturbed as little as was possible.

Of course, that was a failure. Unimportant.

She was welcomed by lit candles upon lit candles. Candelabras moved as close together as possible for a stronger light. A desk filled by locks. Some used as paperweight to design sketches or blank sheets and some dismantled to be put together once more later on. A lockpicking set, she was sure, was somewhere on her left ready to be used when needed.

Unimportant, at the moment.

In the middle of it all, Louis—Auguste—fixing his peruke to look presentable, his coat set to the side, his waistcoat rumpled, and his fingers stained with ink.

Important.

Marie Antoinette smiled and moved deeper into the room, knowing that she too looked far from the majestic Queen of France she was supposed to be. She felt it.

"My Queen."

He looked at her as if she was still.

The initial surprise melted to warmth and welcome. The smile that quirked his lips was as familiar as his easily offered hand. His other hand set on his chest, over his heart. "You need not check on me, Your Majesty. You should be resting."

"I should." The events of the day were left outside the door as she reached for his hand. Her heart, already tired yet still so young, slowed down from its hectic beats of strong emotions. The connections to people. The ever moving and ever speeding world around her. The anxiety of a path that's needed to be changed. Responsibilities of monarchy set aside until needed to be worn once more. Expectations of an archduchess, long learned and carved into her bones, were discarded as she clasped his hand and reveled in his warmth. "As should you, Auguste."

His smile widened, turning sheepish. The man that's more craftsman than royal surfacing. The rarely seen mischief clearly dancing in his eyes as he took her calling of his name the permission it was.

"If you would be so kind to keep it between us then, dearest Antoinette." With a care, he pulled and guided her to his side. Eyes trained to her path with an attention to detail that she appreciated later than she should've. With that same care he started unbuttoning the pearls on her dark glove, making sure that the ink not stain. "It would be quite a scene to be scolded by Adelaide or even worse, Lafayette."

"I am the only one that can scold you in such matters, husband."

Dearest Antoinette. The emotion that swelled within her roared like rolling thunder as the echoes finally died in the walls of her skull.

There was a pause,

obvious

in the _____ silence

and

the

bated

breath.

His fingers pinching the glove at the tip of her pinky finger.

"Then I am in safe hands."

That had her chuckling, leaning against his side with a sigh and watching his hands move. To her ring finger, then her middle finger. Warmth. Warmth. And Warmth. "For now."

"Hmmm." Her forefinger and then her thumb. He pulled the glove off, set it aside and then entwined his fingers with hers. Palm to palm. His large hand, rough and calloused engulfed hers. Callouses that held stories her memories couldn't tell and she wanted to know. He brought their held hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, gaze steady on her own. "For now."

Important. The warmth turned to heat.

He reached for her other hand but she pulled back, meeting his inquiring eyes with her own. The question in his were clear and before doubt could even color his lovely eyes, she made sure to smirk as she pushed him down his seat. Closer, a simple step that moved her skirts against his legs. Awareness prickled against her skin even with layers of fabric between. She motioned to his peruke and waited for him to relax. Only when he did, did she step even closer to be braced between his legs.

It was her turn to take all the time she needed.

Curiosity was a main drive as her fingers traced his temples, then his hairline and then the curve of his ears. Curiosity of what he was thinking as she did so. Curiosity of what he was feeling, as she followed the edges of his peruke with a light touch so she can start the removal process. Curiosity of memories not truly hers, but almost, tactile. Then with a care, one rooted to the fascination of people around her instead of metal mechanisms, she removed the peruke.

Moved to set it aside.

The destination, his desk.

She paused mid— Caught breathless —way.

Wonder.

An exhale with the realization that she was staring when she felt his hands wrap around the sides of her waist. His thumbs pressing soothing circles against fabric. An anchor that steadied her even when she could feel the worry in his gaze.

Wonder.

She held onto that emotion as she finally set the peruke aside and faced him again. Found him looking up to her. Learned eyes trying to untangle her thoughts.

"It had plagued me so long to figure out and only now did the words come to me." She started in a whisper, almost afraid to disturb the thoughts rushing in his gaze. She took a deep breath and framed his cheeks with her hands. One hand still gloved and a source of contrast not only in color, but also sensation. "The firelight…it brings out the burnished gold in your dark hair. Whatever comparison I chose before was ill fitting because I was borrowing words."

> ~~Like lies.~~
> 
> ~~False courtesy.~~
> 
> ~~Like too small a container for something already overflowing in her.~~

The soothing circles stopped and instead tension seeped in. His shoulders raising in preparation. His legs shifting in a move almost imperceptible. His breathing, suddenly measured. His gaze, previously quite open and though still hers, was now shuttered.

And yet, he didn't pull back.

And yet, he didn't push her away.

What had people called him in the past? The once young boy so sure that he would be free and never crowned. What had his family thought of him? The teen that was as wide eyed as she thought she was when they met. What had she called him, when all she had were rumors and anecdotes from afar? What had she thought of him, when the crown was finally set on his head and the lives of a nation placed in his once small hands?

At what point did she look at him and then decided that what she saw was lacking?

When now, all she saw was a man that built his courage to be able to live through all the pain and still come out of it to be kind, gentle and loving. How did he build his courage, to love her still with all she did?

This time, it was her turn to soothe. She mapped his cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes with the tips of her fingers. Questions of texture differences crowding in her mouth but left unspoken.

"I've thought of the grand words of poets and of the colors great painters would use. I tried to remember all the emotions prodigies wanted to stir whenever they compose their masterpieces. Of lyrics to songs I've sung and yet to sing. Instead, I found them lacking and bitter tasting."

The silence that followed demanded continuation and even thought she felt unprepared, she granted it. There was a restlessness bursting within her that she couldn't deny even if she tried.

"Alas, the fault is mine. For I've long relished the grandeur and the loudness and what's larger than life. Fireworks and the dream of flying. Higher than the precipice I've already been set." She wanted to pace, to move her arms and her hands to gesture in hopes that he would understand. She didn't. "You are water. From the very rivers hiding flecks of gold in their beds, to the great wide ocean and its depths, Louis-Auguste. And what a fool am I to decide that I've figured you out to be satisfied of whatever we were in the past."

This turn of silence, she clamped her lips, to let this ocean of a man to swallow the words that were said. To pull it deep into him to churn and untangle. To lay out the rivers of possibilities this event would lead to, and to choose. For now she understood that while Fersen was a blazing fire of passion that seemed unending, and Lafayette was a steady fortress that kept a warmth within, her husband was ever moving, ever adjusting, ever seeking, under his supposed stillness and hovering indecision.

Amid the tension, racing thoughts and his hidden gaze, she ran her gloved fingers through his hair and stayed in his hold. Trusting. Comfortable. Waiting. Her other hand slid to settle on his shoulder.

Not pulling.

Not pushing.

A message that she was there, for him. For however long he needed and whatever decision he would reach. She was there, when he took her gloved hand and started unbuttoning the pearls to buy himself time. There and aware that he was chewing the words he would utter.

She was still there when he returned her hand to his dark locks. Aware that he had set her glove with its pair, while she joined the firelight in playing with said dark locks.

There ready to meet his gaze when he finally lifted his head seeking hers.

And there she saw so much that honesty bared and the mere courage in that act humbled her.

"Then what am I to be when you've figured me out enough?"

And in the way that Antoinette knew how to be courageous, she stated a decision she recently realized was a truth.

"I already did. My husband. The father of my children. My king." She took both of his hands into hers, entwining their fingers sure and tight. "My dearest and most trusted friend, ready to set me straight when I stray. My partner in every step of our growth and setbacks."

"And even though I am a bit late in realizing, my heart and my home."

She squeezed harder, hoping that this would be enough of a step to start for a better future, not just a surviving one.

"My Auguste, as I am yours."

She brought their hands to her lips.

"From now to forever and every single second in between."

In the moment and welcomed, dawn.

Against Antoinette's lips: softness, burning heat, spice.

Auguste's lips.


	2. Welcomed by Earth

_Hours upon hours before this moment—_

Music. Dancing. Revelry. Anonymity. And an energy that ensnared anyone that could sense it from beyond the ballroom. An energy that pounded through those that stepped into its fold. A guarantee that only the bravest could leave.

An energy, that to Auguste, was from a single source and that was the only truth he would accept.

Said source was gliding her way to him.

He tampered down the smile that tempted to pull the corner of his lips. Tried to keep the amusement out of his eyes. The mask could only do so much after all.

"Once more, Madame, have you enjoyed your dance?" He leaned just a bit to his side, his eyes to the dancefloor, and only because that's the only sense he could still pull from temptation. The rest? Hers, without question. Especially in situations like these.

"Yes!" Laughter, warm like sunlight. A sound that had him succumb so easily. He turned, accepting inevitability and saw a lock of her hair curling down her cheek, in a much simpler hairdo she started taking a liking to. It had him reaching out to tuck it behind her ear. Dearest Antoinette. "And have you enjoyed standing here, monsieur, as I've spied you once more turning down a dance?"

"Yes."

He did. He always did.

"Oh?" Her mask hid just enough of her raised eyebrows, but he knew how it would look all the same. This time, he smiled. Wide. Happy. "Truly, monsieur?"

And in his ever continuous amazement, events he kept close to his heart, she moved closer and reached out to him. Her bare hand touching his elbow. She looked at him. An intense gaze of curiosity and thousands of questions combined with a fount of patience. Him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep said amazement in and instead carried on watching. Her. Emotions in her gaze battling for dominance. Her lips pouting in that tell, trying to figure things out. Fingers fiddling with the red ribbon tied around his forearm.

Ah, the red ribbon.

A treasure.

A long piece gifted by Leonard, she told him while she embroidered its ends with myriad of blossoms. A gift for us, she said as she cut it in half.

His smile grew just a bit wider at the succeeding memory. What a wielding of Queenly power it was. Her walking into his quarters, dismissing his valet with nothing but a nod and a smile. And without missing a beat, helping him dress with a learned familiarity.

All the while she talked about the little plans she made for the night. Of how she would be tying half of that ribbon around his arm, and she hoped that he would be agreeable to it. Of how in return, he would be doing the same to her. A place on her body of his choosing.

So around her wrist he chose, of that same hand now touching his elbow.

"Will you tell me?" Taken out of the memory by her words. Filled with amusement at how her curiosity won against all else. Adoration, at the realization that the look in her gaze was also of her trust in the knowledge that he would be honest to her. And the patience that she would be there whenever that time was right.

Which deed in his past did God found worth in, to bless him with this woman?

Instead of trying to answer that question, he bent his arm and marveled at how easily she hooked her own around his. Her body relaxing and leaning against his side like it was the best place in the world.

_My heart and my home._ Her words.

He pulled her closer to him and motioned to the dance floor with his head. A couple of beats. Curiosity then understanding in her eyes before she turned. Excitement as those same eyes took what was before them and he knew an energy filled her to the bones.

How many times had he wondered if he could put her profile to paper, with his own hands and not those of the masters? How many times had he tried and failed? How many times had he longed to trace that profile with his touch, especially after that first time he dared and was accepted?

> Too many.
> 
> Not enough.

"Marquis de Lafayette is to your north-northeast, looking more relaxed this time around than the last times I've seen him attend your masques. The dance you pulled him into the last time was of great effect." He talked low, watching her move minimally and with ease to look. Recognition in the smirk that she wore. "He's still turning down almost every dance, of course."

"Almost?"

"Almost." He smiled wide, one with teeth, when her head turned so sharply to look at him. The look she gave him was just full on demand. A truth laid that she will have the answers she sought whether it be from him or anyone else. "Look. Can you see who he's looking at?"

And once more her head turned, just as sharply, back to where Lafayette stood. Auguste watched as Antoinette's body tilted just a bit forward, eagerness and determination. Felt the shift in her center of gravity. Her hands fisting what it could hold. Her brows furrowing under the mask she wore. Her gaze taking on a sharp glint.

Here, Antoinette like a hawk in a hunt and determined for a catch.

A gasp.

Everything tight l o o s e n e d.

Determination warped to surprise.

He shifted, unhooked their arms so he could place a hand on her back and hold her hand with his other. Her eyes this time were wide and shining with tears when they returned to him. Disbelief and so much hope.

"…Is that—Auguste, is that—how?"

This time, he guided her, careful but with haste knowing that whatever curiosity or demand or other emotion that battled dominance within her was overpowered by only one. "Come, Antoinette."

Her nod was brief but between them, it was more than enough.

In the following moments, silence and tension followed each step. To the two of them there was only the goal to be reached. To him, there was only her and her happiness. And for her, he used every resource he had in him, to make sure that their trek was uninterrupted.

Presence.

**Warning glances.**

**OUTRIGHT GLARES.  
**

And as he expected with the Marquis, Lafayette was already aware and waiting for them. Beside him, his companion for the night.

Antoinette was trembling with suppressed energy. Holding back. Trying.

"Monsieur. Madame." Auguste took the load of the following social norms where it usually was on Antoinette's shoulders. Nods to the pair before them. A smile. "Friends."

"Friends." Lafayette quirked a smile, smaller, but full of warmth. He nudged his companion forward, her gaze glued to the ground.

Antoinette ripped herself away from him and rushed forward, arms thrown out wide. Reaching out. Welcoming. Open to the world and all that she had accepted, claimed hers. To be engulfed tight and kept close to her heart.

"Gabrielle." A whisper. Longing. Worry. Guilt. And all the shades in between. Relief.

Love.

Hope.

Happiness.

"Antoinette, I am sor—" Smothered and stopped when Antoinette pulled Gabrielle even tighter and shuddered in what Auguste was sure was her attempt to keep her composure. The next words, muffled but clearly tear stained. "I missed you."

"And I, you. I keep on praying. I keep on begging for every blessing and every good turn. For you. For all I've made you suffer through, you more than deserved it."

And there, Auguste marveled at a truth that he would never doubt.

His wife's kind and sincere heart.

The tears were of warmth, carefully wiped away without a care of fashion or fabric. Exchanges of soft whispers loaded with feeling. Touches exchanged. Affirmations of connections. Assurances of safety and wellness.

Anything beyond the four of them was unimportant. 

For this was a reclaiming of a new hope over an already accepted loss.

And in just a few moments, laughter. Bubbling from Gabrielle in shy bursts. Spilling from Antoinette with a cheekiness that would make even the devil proud.

"Shall we move out and give ourselves privacy?" Lafayette offered an arm to Gabrielle, his body bowing to the Queen in askance. "I am sure you have plenty to catch up on."

"Indeed. I've been spying that balcony exit. I am sure I know which part of the gardens it leads." Auguste, mirroring Lafayette but knowing full well what would happen next. "Shall we?"

Antoinette just raised her brow and hooked Gabrielle's arm around hers.

"I know where it leads as well, messieurs. If I must be so bold, I know it better than any of you men." And having said her piece, with a wink, she pulled Gabrielle with her and sauntered away.

One. Two. Three. It was when Auguste reached counting their 12th step that the soft giggles and excited whispers restarted.

"You expected that." Lafayette, when they fell to step beside each other, following.

"I've known her for much longer." He watched as Antoinette's shoulders shook with her giggles. Louder now that they're away from the crowds. Free.

"Even with her sudden change of heart? She surprised everyone, even you, Your Majesty."

Auguste held his hands together on his back and hummed in thought.

"I was." He took the time to form the right words. Antoinette, having decided that they were in the right location finally pulled Gabrielle to a seat on one of the garden benches. She discarded her mask and put it to the side, urging the woman to do the same. "Now that I've been given time to think in this relatively new peace, I found that more than surprise, what I felt was marvel."

"Marvel." It wasn't a question, but an understanding.

"We of the world are always put and moved into boxes that we rarely fit in. Fate's hand that couldn't be denied. God's will with its degree of finality. A paved path set. A goal finalized. The views and the sceneries almost fully predetermined. I used to think that the only choice for me was to sacrifice all else and accept it. To carry onward as I am not in the position to fight and have another path." He grinned and shrugged. "A limited viewpoint of the world, but I was young then."  
  
They halted just outside the circle of the women's conversation. Only murmurs to reach them, but their gazes as glued either way.

Ba-thump.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

Ba—

Antoinette raised her head and sought his gaze in silent inquiry. The question clear. Auguste was there ready.

—thump.

She saw the answer in his own and smiled, then returned her full attention to her conversation like their simple exchange never happened.

It was only then that he turned to Lafayette to find him staring back. He shrugged again.

"I was blessed and lucky that she came to my life while I was still young. To shake my view about boxes and bring down some of the walls I erected around myself."

And oh, how she brought down those walls.

This young lady who arrived in his land already his wife, afraid of the unknown but utterly determined to conquer the place she was given with open arms.

No, not just determined. Decided.

"You love her."

Three words

You love her.

that echoed 

love—ove—ve—e

and settled in his being.

her.

"If there is anything in this world I would fight for to not lose, it would be her." He imagined and dreamed for too many times how his life would be without her. And all that he saw was loss. "This woman that decided to hold onto being both Archduchess and Queen, while still opening her arms to the world and what she would accept from it."

Antoinette raised her head again, her eyes sharper with suspicion of knowing that she was the topic of conversation. A promise that she would get the details later.

He gave her his most sincere smile.

"This woman that told life, I'll walk this set path, and I will find my happiness in it. And if I cannot, I will build it." He gave her an encouraging nod and she returned to her conversation once more. "And as the world spat on her efforts in trying to please both while not losing herself, this woman finally decided to just be who she decided she is."

"The Queen of the People."

And a plenty more.

~~More than anyone could ever fathom  
~~

~~for he had tried, oh and he thought he almost had it~~

~~and instead he's surprised and swept away~~ ~~~~

~~by more and more and more and more~~

~~and more still.~~

Auguste could see it in the set of her shoulders whenever she now welcomed the dawn. There, in her smile whenever she received news of the world outside Versailles and of its people. In her eyes, how they sharpened with plans and ruthlessness when gentleness no longer worked. In the warmth of her arms whenever she built bridges and crossed them.

There, in the determination of her limbs as she stood up from that bench. Her every step steady, like roots of the strongest of trees.

"I hope you are speaking of a Queen that I know, Marquis. Or one that I could meet and befriend." She pulled Gabrielle to her side when the lady shuffled back. "Queenship is a never ending study, I realize."

"But that's not what you're here for, dearest." He knew her well enough, after all. "Not for now."

And there's the gleam in her eye and the steel in the curve of her spine. The smile, oh she's ready to conquer. "I'm reestablishing my connection with Gabrielle and will be meeting her more in the future. I have a few plans to run by you."

Lafayette's curiosity, tinted by surprise. His brows furrowing and his jaw tightening. A _but_ held back by clenched teeth.

Gabrielle's shock, a mixture of hope and disbelief. In all that conversation that they just did, it was clear the madame denied herself even the possibility.

Auguste grinned. "Let's hear it, wife."

And there, Antoinette built a section of her happiness.

Plans, probabilities, alternatives. Bargains and compromises. Topics of royal reputation and resources needed to achieve her goal. As many aspects thought through. She made sure too that what she had was a minimum and that permission would be granted.

The final plans were far from the ideal that she would've wanted, he was sure, but by the smile on her face, that was enough of a foundation.

Lafayette's admiration pushed the curiosity away. A soldier impressed by another's strategy. The surprise stayed though.

Gabrielle's hope dominated over the shock. The disbelief now of _yes, she wasn't losing her best friend. Yes, plans were just made. Yes, there's a time frame for them too. Yes, there were people that treasured her friendship with the Queen. Yes, there were people that cared._

It was an amusing pair of emotions to watch. Gabrielle's bright excitement against Lafayette's steady surety as the pair walked back to the masque.

"You are too good to me, Auguste." Antoinette's body warm against his side, arm looped around his. Relief clear in her voice and its softness. "You and the Marquis already arranged this for us and you went steps farther by asking the Marquis to open his home for our meetings. You didn't have to."

"You were planning to ask. I could read it in your gaze."

"You caught me." She chuckled and moved away, pulling him with her deeper into the gardens.

After a while, she let go and skipped onward, a loud giggle erupting from her lips as she twirled. "Whatever have I done to be blessed to have you as my husband, Auguste? I, the Madame Deficit married to a man of generosity."

"I wonder the same." He reached out and offered his hand, holding hers the very next moment as she put it in. "Whatever have I done to be blessed to have you as my wife, Antoinette? I, the most unprepared king of France married to a woman of determination."

"I am n—"

"You are. You are." He pulled her to him and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then he set his chin atop her head. "You're a great source of determination for someone as indecisive as I."

She rested against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Slowly, they swayed side to side.

"Upon the death of my father and the truth of what was to follow, I found myself not understanding a side of the court revealed to me. Even with all my books, my tutors and their praises of my quick understanding, I didn't think I used it well. I fell back to what I learned with locksmithing. Every single person in Versailles, a lock. To figure out. To dismantle. To unlock. That I'm a lock too, that needs to make sure only a few can ever manipulate."

She hummed, her fingers running patterns against his nape.

"I thought once that you were a lock too. One I needed to figure out. I used to wonder how your mechanism worked and from there how to unlock you little by little."

~~Your ticks.~~

~~Your tells.~~

~~Triggers.~~

~~Should he confess?~~

She chuckled and pressed a kiss on his jaw.

~~Oh, beloved.~~

~~There went another wall.~~

"It's awkward, to confess this now, but it's the truth. I looked forward to figuring out the secrets of your smiles. Those that had your eyes dancing and your lips quirking wide. Of your laughter. Of your anger and annoyance. Of your rage where energy's filling every nerve of your body and blaze your gaze."

She pulled back and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You looked forward to seeing me angry?"

He could feel the sheepishness of his smile. "There's a healthy dose of fear in it, I assure you. Especially back when I was far from sure if I would be the victim of your fury."

"And now?"

"I try to tread carefully, dearest."

~~For with it~~

~~he was witness~~

~~too,~~ ~~of the grief,~~

~~the longing, the pain,~~

~~the fear, the grey and the gloom.~~

~~Eyes staring right at him~~

~~disappointed,~~

~~disgusted,~~

~~dead.~~ ~~~~

~~no.~~

Her snickers warmed him to his core. Mischief lighting up her face to a beauty that always knocked him breathless. Another kiss she pressed against his jaw then, she stared at him.

Expectation.

"And now, Auguste? Am I still a lock?"

"No. As to you I am the ocean, I've realized that you're the earth."

Thoughts and excitement rushed to the forefront of her gaze and with it that patience once more.

"The earth."

Her patience broke to just let a tease through. "And it's not all those comparisons about a woman's form, is it? Hills and valleys and the like?"

He raised an eyebrow, surprise and intrigue. "Maybe. Here I was thinking of how your hands are the earth's trees giving sustenance to all that are willing to reach out in return. Of how you're a builder of homes in those that wish to settle in your arms."

"…Carry on."

"The mountains remind me of your steadfastness and formidableness. The calamities? Your rage. Your tears. Your pain. Yet you still give, still welcome and reach out. Still, you love us mere mortals. And I am dumbstruck whenever I realize that you love _me._ Dumbstruck that with all the hardships, you care for _France_."

~~How many times had he thought?~~

~~What if we were mere peasants, would we have met?~~

~~Would we find happiness and love in each other?~~

~~Would I have missed your bright existence?~~

~~And would you have looked away to someone else?~~

~~Oh, would these thoughts change anything with the present?~~

~~A realization.~~

Her eyes encouraged, for she knew that he was far from done. As well as he could read her, he was sure she could read him just as well. Words clawed their way up his through and banged their way against his teeth, after all.

"You blessed me with your heart and decided to build your home with me. And—And—I do not know what words I could use to even match those you've given me that marvelous dawn. All I know—"

_— is that I would try to carry on even without you, for you, but I would be lost._

_— is that I am happiest with you._

_— is that —_

"—is that I will do my best to be worthy of your love every single day."

~~This realization.~~

"As will I." He felt her hands against his cheeks and they were warm even in the chill of the gardens. "As will I."

He chuckled and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Husband and wife. You and I."

"Yes. Auguste and Antoinette."

"Us."

"Us." She swiped her thumbs up his cheekbones in the sweet comfortable silence that followed.

A peace. A hope. A wish.

A future lying in wait just for them to take step by step. Day by— "So, Auguste, is this when you're to kiss me or is it my turn to do so?"

He would've dissolved to guffaws. Definitely would. He was so sure of it. Happiness with an explosion of surprise and amusement. It would've been the most embarrassing kind too. Loud and without any semblance of grace.

He would've.

Antoinette decided it was her turn, though.

_—and hours upon hours after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time reading and such. I remember writing this down in some "just blabber this out in chat as an idea" in the game chat but the character limits made me just go "well, just write this out proper and all."

**Author's Note:**

> Because of course, the males that I would fall for in this game aren't the main romances.  
> [Oh, but surely there is someone, there are multiple books after all? No. My top choices are not LIs and I am already playing Queen Marie, Magic Lamp and Gotham Memories.]  
> [Louis isn't even my top choice for Queen Marie. It's d'Eon, but gameeeeee why won't you have a full blown route with the actual Husband?]


End file.
